[*]It is but limned in outline;[[378]] and when brought
To low estate, then doth the sponge, full soaked,
1300
Wipe out the picture with its frequent touch:
And this I count more piteous e'en than that.[[379]]
[Passes through the door into the palace
Chor. 'Tis true of all men that they never set
A limit to good fortune; none doth say,
As bidding it depart,
[*]And warding it from palaces of pride,